A Single Moment
by writerllofllworlds
Summary: Eventually, even the greatest sorcerer in all history has to snap.


Author's Note: So, Merlin feels. Heads up. I would be greatly indebted to you if you left a review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. as much as I wish I did, I'm not that rich.

*

All it took was a single moment.

Merlin didn't know when it had started. Perhaps it was when he killed Nimueh, or maybe even earlier than that, when he drank the poison chalice meant for Arthur. Or it might have been later, with Balinor's death.

Nevertheless, Merlin could not pinpoint a single moment when the pain he was feeling began to numb. But, over the years it had become part of his daily routine. Nod respectfully, put on a goofy smile to mask the hurt, and pretend everything was alright when in reality everything was quite the opposite.

This was Merlin's life now. He would run himself weary doing chores for both Gaius and Arthur, he dealt with the castle household, managing all that needed to be dealt with, and in between all of that he constantly saved the King's life. Eventually, it got to the point where he was too busy to feel any pain at all. He simply nodded and smiled and played the part of a happy-go-lucky servant, loyal to his kingdom and his King until his dying breath. And while the second part was very, very true, the first was incredibly less so.

He supposed, of course, it had to happen sometime. Everyone had to break eventually, even the greatest Sorcerer of all time.

He could blame Arthur, he's supposed. It was his fault that Merlin was huddled in one of the turrets at the top of the castle. Well, perhaps not entirely his fault, but it was definitely instigated by the young king.

It had been a normal evening after returning from another magical creature fight. Arthur was looking over kingly papers, Merlin had been cleaning and humming one of the club's favorite songs to ease his weary heart. The rain outside was pounding against the stone, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Suddenly, a crack of lightning lit the room around them, and the brief image of Nimueh flashed across his mind, and Merlin had dropped the pitcher in his hands.

He scrambled to pick it up even as Arthur insulted his clumsiness. But, when the servant did not reply, the king had huffed. " _You really are an idiot, Merlin_."

" _Yes, you never fail to remind me_." Merlin had replied, a little too sad and accepting than he wished. He heard a chair scrape across the floor, and Arthur's calming voice. " _Merlin_? _Are you alright_?"

He was about to retort that yes, of course he was, he always was, when Arthur dropped to his knees in front of him and snatched his wrist. " _Merlin_!"

At first, the sorcerer had been confused, but when he followed Arthur's fingers, he saw the blood dripping down his pale skin. " _Huh_ ," he had scoffed. " _I didn't even notice_."

That seemed to worry his best friend greatly, if his furrowed eyebrows were anything to go by. Arthur grabbed one of the napkins on the nearby table and wrapped it around the injury. He pulled up the sleeve to get better access, and Merlin swallowed, hoping he wouldn't notice.

But Arthur wasn't stupid.

Arthur had asked about the scar on Merlin's forearm. It was a casualty of his kidnapping by Morgana, was his closest guess, but he couldn't really tell for sure. After so many years of saving Arthur's royal backside, all the pain and the scars kind of just jumbled up together.

Of course, he couldn't tell Arthur that. He'd have to explain how he got in such a situation in the first place, how he escaped, and what happened afterwards. So, he had simply muttered something about tripping in the halls and his arm getting caught on a door handle before continuing to clean the room.

It wasn't a believable excuse, he knew. Arthur knew it too.

" _Merlin_ ," his tone had been edged with warning. " _Where did you get this_?"

" _N-nowhere_." Merlin had stammered, pulling down his sleeve, but not quickly enough for the king to miss the 4 thin scars lining his bicep.

" _What about these_?!" Arthur's voice was rising in both volume and angry concern. " _Those look like claw marks, Merlin_!"

Merlin had wanted nothing else than to disappear or turn invisible. To de-exist, if that was possible, and then he wouldn't have to bear this shame.

He had no excuses to give, or at least none that wouldn't reveal his secret. But, brain barely working, he muttered, " _That was a cat_."

" _Merlin, do you think me stupid_?"

Merlin had swallowed, pushed forth a goofy grin, and said, " _Only on your good days_."

Arthur had grabbed his shoulder tightly and growled, " _This isn't funny, Merlin, now tell me where you got these. Now_!"

Merlin had choked up then, partially because Arthur's fingers were squeezing directly into the wound he had received merely hours ago when he had returned from fighting a Chimera, and partially because everything was coming back in a single moment.

The unearthed pain of the passed 8 years crashed into him like a tidal wave, and it took every ounce of strength the dark haired man possessed not to cry right there. Even then, tears threatened to overtake his vision as he croaked, voice so different than before. " _It's nothing_."

" _Merlin_." Arthur's voice had turned soft. " _Merlin, you can trust me_."

And Merlin wanted too. God, he wanted to trust Arthur in that moment more than he had ever wanted anything.

But years of self-hate and denial were stronger than his wants. " _I-I can't_."

He moved to stand, and pulled free from Arthur's comforting hold. " _Merlin_ -!"

" _You wouldn't understand_." Merlin had managed quietly, backing towards the door. " _I'm fine, Arthur, really. Nothing to worry about. Just silly old me_."

There was something in Arthur's expression that made Merlin curious. What reason did the king of Camelot to look at him in such ferocious terror? Merlin wasn't in danger.

" _Merlin_ ," it was the kind of tone used on a jittery horse or a man about to jump off of a high castle wall. " _Merlin, talk to me. I'll listen_."

Merlin wanted to believe that, to believe that if he told Arthur he'd understand. But the reality that Arthur was Uther's son when it came to magic stilled him, and his hand found the door.

" _You-you'll hate me_." Was his stammered reply.

" _Merlin_ ," it had been barely a breath, and it was sad, oh so sad, and Merlin swallowed, but the love that shown from his friend's eyes was enough to halt his escape.

" _There is nothing in this world that could make me hate you_." the emotion in his tone was enough to make Merlin want to collapse in his embrace, to spill all of his secrets and burdens at once.

And that terrified him.

So Merlin had run. He had pushed back against the wooden door and dashed down the corridor, ignoring Arthur's shout of protest.

And so here he was, in the highest tower that the castle could provide, his entire body shaking. The tears in his eyes wouldn't leave, as if the walls that Merlin had built were too strong even now, when he wanted to feel the pain. When he wanted to cry, to scream, to let it all out in a glorious swoop. But he couldn't. Even as he pounded his hand against the stone wall around him, as the makeshift bandage slipped from his skin and the blood flowed freely from his knuckles, no tears fell down his face.

What was wrong with him?

So, so many things.

 _It's lonely_ , his own voice echoed inside his mind as he stared at the lighting cackling across the sky. _To be more powerful that any man you know. Be special and have to pretend you're a fool_.

"Merlin?"

Arthur. Merlin didn't have anywhere else to run, and while he had considered jumping from the window, he knew he couldn't. Not when Arthur still needed him. Not when Arthur would always need him.

"Merlin." His voice was filled with relief, and he fell to his knees before the sorcerer. "Hey."

"Is for horses." He whispered back.

"Yes, yes it is." The prat smiled, but his face fell when he saw his friend's wrecked hands. "Oh, Merlin."

"I know." He sighed heavily. "I just..."

Arthur frowned and took his servant's bloody fingers into his, wrapping them in more napkins. "You do trust me, don't you Merlin?"

"Of course." He answered immediately. "You know that."

"Then... why keep this from me?" he gestured towards the concealed scars on his left arm.

"If you think that's bad, you should see my back." He clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening at the proclamation.

"More secrets?" those golden eyebrows raised in concern. "I'm not sure I can handle many more secrets."

"Well, I've got the lot of them." The warlock sighed heavily, and it was as if the world was resting on his shoulders.

"You know, I could order you to tell me."

"When have I ever done as you tell me?"

Both chuckled at this, and Arthur tied the makeshift bandage around Merlin's pale wrist. "If I asked you, would you tell me?"

Merlin thought for a moment, and then muttered, "You'd hate me."

Arthur sighed as he sat down in front of his friend. "I told you, nothing could ever make me hate you." He grabbed Merlin's arm. "Nothing."

"I disagree." He snorted.

"What is it, Merlin? Are you secretly in love with Gwen? Is your kitten dying? Does this have to do with your magic?"

Merlin's breath hitched. "My-my what?"

"Your magic." Arthur repeated. "You know, Merlin, I'm not _that_ thick."

Merlin scooted away. His entire world was shutting down. this didn't make any sense! "You-you know?"

Arthur just gave him that look, and said, "I've also heard we have a destiny."

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. he had formed it in so many ways in his mind, some good, some horrible, but this was not planned. There was no time for Merlin to come up with some witty retort or a wonderful speech about loyalty and what not. All he could do was swallow and blink, but he gave a small nod.

"Well, Merlin, do you know the meaning of share?" he continued looking at him as if this was a misunderstanding about saddles, not a _criminal offense_.

"Unless it's changed since this morning..." the confused warlock muttered.

"Good. Then you should realize that we should be doing this together." Arthur bumped his shoulder. "Merlin,"

The indicated man didn't respond, merely stared at the rumbling storm.

"Merlin." He tried again. Nothing.

"Merlin, look at me."

Finally, he looked back at his king. "What? Are you going to tell me to stop? Well I can't Arthur, I was born like this. Or maybe if I preferred burning at the stake or beheading? Or how many times I've saved your life because honestly I have no idea. Is it-?"

"Merlin." Arthur's tone became serious. "I'm not going to have you beheaded or-or burned!" It seemed the mere mention of such a thing was disgusting to him, and he took Merlin's hands. "I-I could never- do you really think that I would..."

Arthur touched his face to amke sure that Merlin held his gaze. "Merlin, you aren't alone."

And in that single moment, Merlin felt like he could fly.

The tears started then, and Arthur hugged him for as long as they continued. The two men spoke for hours into the night, sometimes the king, sometimes his sorcerer, and by the end it wasn't just Merlin whose cheeks were wet with tears. Merlin began at, well, the beginning. He told his best friend of how his childhood was a cold, separated one. How he was mistreated and estranged from the people of his village. He recounted many times that he had saved Arthur's hide, but not all of them because even he could not remember. He talked of his father just as the raining stopped, and then of Freya and their love. He named each scar on his body, and this is when Arthur took him and held him for what seemed like forever, whimpering apologies. Merlin simply stroked his hair and fondly called him "Prat" and chuckled.

They fell asleep in that tower, ignoring the gossip that would surely follow tomorrow, laughing at some joke Merlin had told and that was when he realized it. With Arthur's head on his shoulder, and his own eyelids dropping, he knew that for once in his life, despite the pain and torture and death, that he was not alone.

All it took was a single moment.


End file.
